


Out of your mind

by mirkwood131



Series: BTS Central [3]
Category: BLACKPINK (Band), EXO (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bad Boy Min Yoongi | Suga, Fluff, Friendship, Hospital, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Motorcycles, Spin the Bottle, Sugakookie, i'll tag everything as i go, jikook - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-26 01:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirkwood131/pseuds/mirkwood131
Summary: After a game of 'spin the bottle' at a party, where Yoongi makes out with JungKook in front of everybody, both their lives take an unexpected turn that brings them closer than ever.Which really translates to: two minds trapped in the same body kind of situation.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy :)

                                                     

I’m fucked.

Utterly and totally fucked.

This is my professional opinion of a person who usually screws up. I’ve made a job of screwing up. I’m good at it, so good, that nobody wonders who broke the vase or wrote with pencil instead of pen on the exam paper. I’m that guy that needs the fourth exam sheet, because I’ve screwed up the other three. Fourth time is the charm for me. Or was it sixth?

But this time it isn’t a minor deed, something that can be forgotten after a day of hiding underneath a blanket. After trying not to face the world or the embarrassment.

No, this time, this time it is “throw yourself in a hole and put sand all over you” or “just move all over to Antarctica” kind of thing. This time it is the kind of shitty that makes you scream “OH SHIT!”

Let me just break it down to you and explain how a series of stupid mistakes brought me here.

You have a high school, alright. Now, imagine it like a big fat pyramid, like the freaking pyramid of Keops, in the middle of the desert. Then, picture those bricks, million bricks that make it. They look like some stairs that you can climb, and when you reach the top, you can see the entire thing. You’re the king over…well, nothing in particular, but you still can see a shit ton of stuff. Now, be a little bit more imaginative, if I could, really, I would draw for you, but Huston, we do have a problem, because right now I’m hiding in closet, writing on my phone. On the notes app. But this doesn’t matter. We were talking about the pyramids.

Alright.

My little tiny existential problem that has turned over the years in a reality is the fact that I’m not even at the bottom of the freaking pyramid. Nope, I’m the ground beneath it, the tossed, sad sand that nobody pays attention to. I’m this…important. It’s no use telling you who’s at the bottom or middle. It’s just, who cares, right? All you want and need to know is who the heck is on top?

Well, this exact person at the freaking top is my little problem that made me be today, well, royally fucked. That’s why I’m also in a closet. No, that’s actually my fault, we’ll talk about that later.

You see, I have another problem, I divagate too much, so much that I just forgot what I was trying to tell you.

The top dog. The reason for my souffrance.

Min Yoongi. Min freaking “I can spit in your mouth and you would thank me” Yoongi. He doesn’t give a damn, he’s not even trying, or maybe this is his entire mind control plan, to seem like he doesn’t care but deep inside he tries so hard to look like he doesn’t care. Do I make sense? Anyways, this Min Yoongi, with mint green hair, chewing gum and smoking cigarettes, riding motorcycles and being the epitome of a bad boy is the reason for all of this.

Because his entire existence until this day, brought me right now in a closet, waiting for everybody to leave. And you might wonder, what people, what closer, what the fuck?

That’s why we need to rewind.

I’ve just got out of the shower after I’ve given myself a well-deserved hand- well, it seems like I’ve rewound too much so let’s just fast forward a little bit.

Well, this is much better, don’t you think? I suppose not, but you’ll soon see what I’m talking about. Because right now I can’t really see much besides the bright screen of my freaking phone.

My plans for this pitiful night were simple: stay at home and play video games. Until maybe 4’oclock when my mother starts shouting at me, waking up my dad in the meantime.

But this night it looks like everybody conspires against me, because my older brother (there are only 10 months between us, okay, he’s not that old) comes to my room with such a big grin on his face and probably I should have foreseen it, but I didn’t.

First mistake.

“JungKookie…you’re going with me to a party.” he says, taking my hands and making me stand up. “A really great party. And mom said you should totally come, to see what real life is.” he laughs.

I honestly just want to punch him in the face, like I usually want to, but then the real mind behind the operation comes, my mother, stopping me from putting into action my evil plan.

“I know what you’re going to say, but besides going to school and coming home, sweetheart, and of course, playing video games, you don’t do anything else. You don’t even talk to people.” she says from the freaking door frame like she’s some key keeper or something in a game.

“I talk. To you, right now.” I say and I let myself fall, very gracefully also, on the bed.

“JungKook. Just one party where you can socialize with-“

“I can’t believe my own mother throws me in the pit of the devil! People don’t socialize at parties, or if that’s what you call having your tongue down someone’s throat, yeah…socializing.” I say.

Because I already have a bad feeling about all of this and I try, with all my force, to stop a shit storm from happening.

“You’re going. End of discussion.”

“Mooooooom. I know nobody. Nobody likes me!!!”

Second mistake. Giving up too easily.

I think the fast forward is quite necessary, because otherwise, you would have seen me complain and act like a five year old in a candy shop for another 10 minutes, or more.

“Nobody likes me!” I say to my brother while we’re waiting in front of our house for his friend to pick us up. “And mom…did you really wanted to punish me for something? Really, I broke the remote out of-“

“I knew it!” he says, hitting me over my nape.

“Auch!!”

“But no. I actually wanted to do you a service. You’re…”

“How am I?” I ask but I already know and dread the answer.

It’s a common discussion in our family. And extended family. And mother’s friend circle.

“You’re too introverted and…weird sometimes. You have literally no friends.” he says, looking at me with that pitiful and filled with compassion expression that we all hate but the ones plastering all over their faces think they are doing us a service.

“I’m actually starting to talk to the mope in the janitor’s closet.” I say.

“And that was such a shitty joke. Is it even a joke, JungKook?”

But thank God I don’t have to answer that question because he’s obnoxiously loud friend comes in his red convertible, with the some shitty music blasted from those hi-tech speakers.

“JungHyun!” he screams and somehow I can hear it over the monstrosity he seems to call music. It’s like a hundred monkeys are playing with some random instruments while somebody was recording them.

They also do a crappy high five while I’m sitting right there, in a middle, looking at them, like I’m an alien trying to understand humans. I’m really just sitting there, and his friend is not even once looking at me and I’m wondering if I should say something, do a little wave or what?

The odd, peculiar thing with me is that I act quite normal around the house, with my family at least, even though I usually don’t speak that much. But when you throw me in the pit filled with noisy people, I purely just can’t. It’s like my tongue is glued to my teeth or something. Nothing intelligible or remotely intelligent comes out of my mouth. Almost like I become the freaking monkey.

I look back at our house and I almost run towards it when my brother puts his hand on my shoulder, pinning me down in place. I’ve just fucked up my escape.

Third mistake.

“This is my brother, JungKook.” he says and I nod, because I have no idea what I’m supposed to do as the other guy is analyzing me with disinterest.

“Hi, dude. Hoseok.” he says over the music. “Get in, the party is already going. You only want them wasted or slightly functional too?” he laughs, loud and high pitched and I look at how easily my brother gets in the car and I keep standing there, already imagining a hundred of other people like Hoseok, all in one house from where I cannot escape.

I can feel something crawling on my skin and I shiver, trying to brush it off, when I hear JungHyun’s voice:

“Come on, JungKook. Get in the back.” he says and I open the door and sit on the surprisingly comfortable leather seats.

The whole ride I’m surprisingly quiet as I try not to squeak too much at how rapidly and dangerously Hoseok does the turns, and actually, just everything. His driving is like him, like the car. Loud, obnoxious and did I forgot, plain dangerous?

Luckily, I get out of the car in one piece and then, I stand right in front of a big, humongous house, all lighted and now, the shitty music coming from the car is balm to my ears.

This, the music blasting from the building is the true monstrosity. It’s so loud that I can barely hear my thoughts. It’s everywhere, pulsing through me, through my ears and brain.

I look at my brother and friend and they don’t seem to mind because they laugh and start walking and it looks like they’ve already forgotten about me.

So I hurry up and walk right behind them two and then we enter the house and the noise is even worse. Everything is horrible inside. There are so many people, laughing, drinking, dancing, grinding, kissing, almost fucking on a couch. The whole deal.

And I stand there because I’m confused and scared. What am I supposed to do in here? Go to someone who doesn’t look too hammered and talk to them? Or start dancing all alone in the middle of the room. Or better, get drunk? There are a million possibilities but all disgust or scare me, in a bigger or smaller dose.

I’m feeling so small and alone, caught in that mass of people who know each other, who can talk and make friends, who fuck and probably have problems too. As I’m sitting just like this, someone hits me, a girl trips on my foot and a guy with a Mohawk spills some beer on my pants. All in 5 minutes of being in one spot.

I should have realized that right then it was the perfect moment to open the door and go home, on foot, just to make my mother believe I’ve actually stayed at the party. But I don’t.

Fourth mistake.

I keep looking around, standing there, with my heart booming in my chest, my ears hurting, when my brother comes back and drags me with him to a shitting room on the first floor.

And then, well, then everything just began to go shittier, so shitty that it’s deep the Mariana Pit. But fear not, I’m still not royally fucked. It’s just about to come, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.

“Here’s quieter.” JungHyun says, but I can barely hear him over the music.

The room is smaller than the one before, but still huge. There are quite a few people here too and this makes me feel even worse. What am I supposed to do in here? Act friendly? I don’t know how to talk to people and make them like me, become friends with me. It scares me, this closeness with these strangers that don’t even pay attention to me and look like they don’t care.

Because I simply care too much even though nobody cares about me.

“Everybooooody!” I girl screams from a chair. And I thought here were decent people. “Let’s spin the bottle!!” she continues on the same tone and a choir of bleating follows her words.

And this is how I end up in a freaking circle, next to my very happy brother, with a fucking bottle in the middle and two chicks making out like it’s the end of the world. I suppose everyone around here is drunk except of me. Always it’s except of me. Until now, the bottle hasn’t stopped in front of me and to be honest, I have no idea what I should do if that happens. Scream, run, refuse to do it. As you can tell, I’ve never kissed somebody. I don’t know if I want to, but it doesn’t matter. No one would want to kiss me, anyways.

But people keep laughing, some are even kissing without the bottle even spinning and stopping in front of them, and then, suddenly, it stops right in front of my shoe. It stops, but nobody seems to care and I hope I can skip it unnoticed.

This is the moment when the freaking Min Yoongi comes into the story. Because I look up, curious to see the other person, and there’s him, in a black t-shirt and mint green hair and pale skin, and of course I know who he is, everybody knows. He’s standing on top of that pyramid, for donuts sake! I look down and them up, at him, and he’s looking straight at me, with a strange smile on his face. He can’t know me. Nobody, but nobody knows me. I’m invisible. I can’t do anything that would make people notice me.

Still, he’s staring right at me and this is the moment of the downfall. The room becomes quiet, as quiet as it can get with the music blasting from the speakers and some are starting to shout:

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

This can’t be happening, I think. Really, it can’t be happening, right?

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

It’s happening, because he crawls closer to me, until we’re sitting in front of each other, I can see every single thing on his face, I can even feel his breath on my face and maybe, I don’t even know, I keep staring into his eyes even when he’s leaning closer to me until his lips touch mine. They touch lightly, before they press harder onto mine and I panic, I have no freaking idea what am I supposed to do, I don’t even want to do it, why am I doing it?! But he continues anyways, I can feel the way he kisses me and then his tongue is somewhere between my lips and then I pull away because this can’t be happening and it still is.

And when I look around, I see that all the people have their phones in the air and then, realization kicks in. They’ve filmed, photographed us. But why?!

I don’t get the chance to find out why because I run away from the room and climb the stairs to the second floor, where I find a room with a big closet where I hide in.

Congratulations!

Welcome back to the present where I’m royally fucked. Screwed. But this is what I do best. Sitting in a closet, writing on my phone and messing up stuff.

I forgot, that was the fifth mistake.

“Kid!!” the freaking door bursts open and there’s too much light now in the closet, so I have to close my eyes for a while. “If you think that hiding in a fucking closet is smart, then I’m Einstein!” he says.

I expected my brother or at least his obnoxious friend to find me but instead, I’m face to face or better face to legs with the no other than Min Yoongi. I can’t say anything because I’m way too shocked and scared and embarrassed of everything, so I don’t even look at him as he just pulls me up with surprising force.

“Stand on your feet! You’re freaking heavy.” he says, pushing me off of him.

To be honest, it’s entirely his fault because he pulled me out of my secret hiding place, that’s not so secret anymore.

“JungKook, right?” he asks, and I nod.

Why did he go all the way to find me and talk to me, when he has no reason to? I’m looking at him and I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, when I’ve just acted once again like a weirdo.

“I should-“

“Kid.”

“I’m sorry to-“

“Kid. Will you just shut the fuck up?” he says and grabs my hand with again, surprising force.

He’s a bad boy after all. I’m just an antisocial loser after all.

My heart keeps booming in my chest and I can hear its beating in my ears.

“They are just a bunch of assholes.” he says.

Why the heck is he trying to act nice with me when he has no reason to? I’m still looking at my feet because someone just found me hiding in a closet after just minutes ago we’ve kissed and his tongue was almost down my throat.

“Come on.” he says, turning around and walking towards the door.

I’m still sitting there, like a dumb imitation of a statue, because I just can’t, can’t go out there with all those people and that loud music and all their eyes on me. I just can’t simply feel those eyes on me.

“You coming? I’m getting you home.” he says and finally steps out, like he’s certain that I’m going to follow him.

And I do follow him and you see, this is my sixth or who cares, mistake. Because I should have remained in that room, waiting for my brother to finally find me and drag me home. But I don’t, because I follow Yoongi, someone I knew from afar for almost all my life, but in the last couple of minutes I’ve managed to talk and kiss him. Just like that. Because, as I’ve told, I’m always the kid who screws up.

I follow him through that mass of people, and happily, no one is turning around to look at me, maybe only at Yoongi, and when we get outside, it’s the first time that I easily breath out.

And maybe now this is the seventh and worst mistake of the night. Because somehow I accept to ride on his motorcycle home. Just like this, with an almost complete stranger about whom I know nothing about but who, weirdly, is here to so nicely help me and get me home after I’ve just been filmed and posted only.

Me.

The sand underneath the pyramid. You see, for the freaking sand to touch the shit on the top either the sand gets carried by the wind up, up, up, or the shit falls down. Now you got to choose. Because I just can’t.

The night feels surreal as I put the helmet on and then notice that Yoongi doesn’t have one.

“You’re not going to wear…one?” I ask him and I think I sound like such an idiot, because, of course, he doesn’t have two.

Or maybe he can pull them out of his ass or something.

“Yes, right now with my magic wand I’ll just create another helmet. Just wear it. And shut up.” he says and sits in front of me.

He, brutally almost, I might add, takes my hands and puts them around his middle.

“Keep them there, got it?” he asks and I nod.

What else can I do? I don’t know why I’m doing this, why I’m accepting to break my comfort zone. The entire night I’ve managed to do things I’ve never thought I would, and look at me now, with the wind brushing past me, looking so cool and carefree on the motorcycle when in reality I’m on the brinks of screaming and crying because I’m shitting my pants. I’m scared. He’s riding so fast, sliding between all the vehicles and he’s not even wearing a helmet. I am.

Suddenly, I don’t even know how, maybe he just didn’t even stop at the red light, a car appears in front of us and he’s riding so fast and then I feel myself clutch even harder at his leather jacket and press my thighs together because we’re getting closer, the car is getting closer and I’m screaming at Yoongi to stop and I hear the breaks but I know it’s too late, everything happened in a fraction of second, it’s dark and it hurts, it’s so much noise. I’m under something, where’s Yoongi, I look for Yoongi and it hurts somewhere, I don’t where and I try to scream. There’s smoke and so much black. Where’s Yoongi?!

Black.

Black.

Black.

I close my eyes.

It feels better with them closed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy :)

I’m even more fucked than before.

This is my certified opinion.

I’m totally fucked.

And this is coming from someone who only 24h ago has been dragged (by force, may I add) to a freaking party, kissed someone without really wanting to and got into a car accident. All in the span of merely 2 hours. That’s what I call professional screwing up.

Just a little note, this is future me talking, a little edit to this whole blabber party that will soon turn into pity central. Just a warning.

So, back to the past.

I just woke up with a terrific headache and pain in my lower abdomen, as well with-well, you know what?!-everything freaking hurts as if one of those monster trucks just decided to go on little stroll all over me. That’s how I feel. I feel like a freaking idiot looking around with my fantastic blurry vision, unable to recognize anything around, especially all these people who don’t usually live in my room, for that matter. Where the fuck am I and why does it hurt so fucking much? Is this some sort of punishment from my brother or mother or what?

And then it hits me.

Hard, like another fucking monster truck, painted in bright blue, because my monster truck is a doctor entering the room.

Hospital.

I’m in the hospital, in a room with other patients, on a bed with polka dot sheets.

“Hello, JungKook. I’m Doctor Kim. How are you feeling?” he asks and my mouth runs dry because this is truly real.

This is no video game or shitty dream from which I wake up all sweaty and heavy breathing. This is real and I can tell because it hurts so badly and I’m just starting to see better and honestly I just want that blurry vision back.

“Are you alright, JungKook?” he asks and I just want to say _“No, you freaking moron. I’m in a hospital, in pain and if I were alright, I’d probably be at home, in my bed, playing video games. Not here, with you asking me this. Of course I’m not alright.”_

“It…hurts.” I finally say and the words just don’t want to come out.

My throat feels so dry and tongue so heavy in my mouth.

“Where…can I see my parents?” I ask him.

“Yes, of course. They are waiting in the hallway.” he says and walks away from me to open the glass doors and say something.

I suppose he’s talking to them, my mother and father and maybe even my brother.

And then it hits me once again. The entire last night, the motorcycle and the car that suddenly appeared in front of us and then the blackness.

_Where the fuck is Yoongi?!_

I look around the room, he must be here with me, right? Right, we were in the same accident, he should be here and I keep looking around but he’s nowhere, he’s not here and I just keep looking around and around but he’s not.

My chest somehow hurts even worse and my heart beats so fast that it’s painful. And then, when I turn my head around I see my mother and father enter the place and I feel like crying for whatever reason.

Because this is so real.

“Where’s Yoongi? Mom, where’s Yoongi?!” I ask her, but I can’t see her face, only the noise of the crash, all those honks and that strange feeling, the blackness and dull ache everywhere. But-but I can see everything, but not him.

“Mom…where is he?” I ask again.

Why doesn’t anybody want to talk to me? Why do they keep staring at me, everybody when they can just answer the damn question!!

“JungKook…sweetheart, you need to calm down and rest. You’ve just-“

“I just need to know where he is.” I say, cutting her off.

I hit the mattress with my hand and it sends a dull ache through my entire body. Then, I look down and notice the gyps around it, the bandages. The fact that I cannot move my fingers.

It’s quiet in the room, as I keep breathing to calm myself down. Why is everyone looking at me this way? I don’t want all these people in here, I don’t, please make them go away from here. What do they want from me? I’m scared…

It hurts so badly and nobody tells me anything. Please, just tell me…

“He…sweetie, the doctors couldn’t do anything for him…” my mother says, but I can barely hear her.

Who do they think they are? All looking with their pitying faces at me, even these patients that are no better than me.

“I don’t understand.” I say.

I understand. But it cannot be true. He’s Min Yoongi, on top of my freaking pyramid; people like him cannot die, only people like me die. That’s how the world works. No. I must be dead, this can’t be right! I can’t be in a hospital, I just want to go home. Why can’t they just let me go home?!

“JungKook.” my father says, “he died. In the crash.”

And now the words, the reality really takes shape. It only really needed two words, two words and my pyramid is slowly crumbling to pieces, falling into the freaking sand until it becomes just sand itself. It can’t be. No, it can’t be. People don’t die so easily. People in my life don’t die, not even people I barely know. Just strangers, people I don’t know, they do. This can’t be real and it still is.

“JungKook, sweetie, you must understand that-“

“Can you leave? I-I want to be alone…” I say and I try to hug my knees, but I can’t.

I can’t, because it hurts, I can barely move my body. My abdomen aches so much, my back, everywhere.

“JungKook. You can’t make sudden movements. You must stand like this. Until you get better.” the doctor says and his voice is so calm, like he doesn’t even care.

As if this the normality for him. And it truly is. I’m just another boring case for him, case after case. I’m just another name in a register, another body on the operation table.

“Please, can’t you just leave?” and they do finally leave, but I can still feel their eyes on me from behind that glass door.

But I don’t say anything else, too aware that all attention was on me.

Dead.

He’s dead.

And I’m living, sitting on this bed.

He died because he gave me the helmet. If he hadn’t given me the helmet. Why did I take the helmet?! Why do I care so much? I didn’t know him.

I don’t.

The sand doesn’t know the top of the pyramid. I’m the sand that somehow got scattered all around the crumbling pyramid. And so my punishment of sitting all day in a bed, in a room with five other people begins.

But there’s no use in telling you about my 6 excruciating weeks spent in the hospital with my parents and brother visiting me every day, sometimes even my grandparents and distant relatives like I’ve become some sort of celebrity. It appears that I had only 5 broken ribs, a broken arm and leg, stiches all over my body and to cap it all off, a kidney transplant. Later on, later as 3 weeks in my recovery in ‘my room’ that smelled like chlorine, I’ve found out or better made my mother tell me, that my new, shiny and squishy kidney used to sit very nicely in the body of no other than Min Yoongi.

Min Yoongi. Min Yoongi who’s dead now, a couple of meters underneath the ground, now rotting while his fucking organs are in a dozen of other people. Keeping me like this. His parents chose to stop the machines keeping him alive and donate everything that could be donated, leaving him simply just a shell.

I couldn’t even go to his funeral. I stayed in my freaking hospital room, with 5 other people who look even more miserable than me, trying to imagine how that would have been.

If you can believe, I’ve never been to a funeral in my life. Nobody important in my family died, only a teacher from cancer, but I was too scared to go and see her dead body in the church. So I didn’t, I stayed at home like I stay in this hospital room, imagining his body in a clean suit, his skin sewed back together, but empty. Smelling like roses probably and slowly starting to disintegrate. I could see through the window that the day was gloomier than ever and when my parents came at night to check on me, they didn’t say a thing about it. I didn’t ask them either. It makes everything seem less real, if I don’t think about it. If I don’t ask anything.

When I look back at everything, I suppose my 7 or heck to them, mistakes turned into one big shit show that resulted in him dead. The top of my pyramid has just fallen, and now is deep in the heated sand. This is not how things are supposed to be.

Day by day, the pain is subsiding and I’m getting better, they have finally removed the gyps and now I can walk with the help of some freaking crutches while my parents look at me like I’ve learnt how to walk for the first time. There’s that strange happiness in their eyes, like the only thing that counts is that I’m alive, that I’ve survived and it doesn’t even matter that somebody else died, pointlessly, when he had so much more to live for.

Because, who would you choose. Me or him?

It seems like fate chose me, maybe to mock me even more or something. I’m feeling even better and the pain is almost undetectable. Is like Yoongi never existed.

I cannot lie. I haven’t known him. I saw him on the hallways, I heard stories about him, I kissed him one night, but you don’t cry for strangers. You might feel sorry for them, pity them and maybe that’s what I do in his case. What’s there more to do?

Because one of his organs saved me, while he’s dead. And I’m alive. This is the scariest thing. I could have been the one, instead of him. Maybe if he wore the helmet. But he didn’t. I did.

This scares me the most.

I’m feeling like shit.

Total shit.

Guilty.

I’m alive. Who the fuck wants to die? Obviously not Min Yoongi. But does that matter, because he’s still freaking dead.

6 weeks after the accident, they’ve discharged me from the hospital.

Free from that freaking stinking cage and boring people, and pitying words and doctors that don’t really give a flying fuck. Free. Back to my normal life, back to school. Like nothing happened and sweet, cheery life is back on track, ready to surprise you at every step.

Let’s all just forget about the accident and rebuild the pyramid, right? It doesn’t matter. Sand is enough, there are plenty of bricks. We’ll just put a new top. It will look like new and I’m alive.

My mother makes me stay home for another week and in this time my brother acts nicer than usual. He tries playing video games with me, telling the last gossip from school. Who fucked who, who will get pregnant and who broke up with who.

I can’t say I’m excited about going back to that horror place, but at the same time I’m tired of everyone acting around me like I’m made of fucking porcelain.

So on Monday, with the alarm, like a loud and hungry mosquito buzzing around my head, ringing, I wake up and I realize “heck, fuck school!” But as if it was a calling, my mother comes inside my room, as if to check that I’m still alive, to help me get dressed.

“Mom, I’m fine. I can do everything just fine.” I say, throwing the clothes on the bed.

She’s standing in the door’s frame, like that stupid night, looking at me and it makes me feel all kinds of ways, because it reminds me of that shit that I’ve tried to burry deep into the sand. I don’t need to remember. I’m fine this way. I barely known the guy. Why should I feel heartbroken? I’ve survived. Right?

“I know, sweetheart. It’s just that-“

“I’ll be fine. I’ll walk there. With JungHyun and his weird friend.”

Again, going with Hoseok, who I haven’t seen since then. I can’t say I’m too happy to meet him again. But I can’t say I’m happy either to go back to school. It scares me, but to my luck, I’m invisible. Nobody even noticed my absence or will notice my comeback. It’s the same. Always.

“Alright. You can call me, you know. If anything hurts or…” she says, smiling sadly at me and it truly makes me feel bad.

I don’t know how she’s feeling. I don’t want to know.

“Okay. It’s just school.” I say, but I only try to make myself feel better.

Why am I so scared? I’m alive. I’ve survived.

“Just school.” she says, walking closer to me. “Can I get a hug?” she asks, but doesn’t let me answer, because she hugs me anyways, a bit too tight that it hurts, but I don’t tell her that.

“I love you. We all love you.” she says, looking at me.

“Me too.” I say and finally get out of the house to wait on our porch for my brother and his friend, Hoseok.

To be honest, I’ve almost ran outside, too ashamed to stay one more minute with my mother who seems to be on the brinks of tears and also ready to build me a bigger pyramid than the one of Keops. What’s with me and these stupid pyramid comparisons anyways?

I don’t have to wait for too long outside because I can already see a running Hoseok coming straight towards me with a dumb smile on his face. It’s not necessarily dumb, but he does look like an overly excited pony. Or hamster.

“Yo, dude! How…are you feeling?” he asks, halfway extending his hand and halfway looking at me with a very wary expression.

 _I’m functional, not made out of porcelain and I don’t break when you touch me, thank you very much._ I want to tell him, but I don’t. Lately I’ve been feeling bad about people. 

“Hi!” I say and I ‘vigorously’ shake his hand, just to prove to him that I’m fine.

“So…you had a mini vacation, huh?” he asks with a smile.

I suppose it was intended to be funny but it only felt like…well shit.

I stare at the cement before my feet, praying for my brother to get out of the house faster while I was also cursing the decision to not remain inside my comfortable hiding place. 

“Sorry, that was out of-“

“Fine.” I say.

To my relief, JungHyun finally appears, making my life so much easier. Why did Hoseok suddenly want to talk to me? People don’t talk to me, unless it is necessary. And now, it isn’t. The accident didn’t change, didn’t make me more special. It’s still me. The same and nonetheless, I can’t help but notice the strange behavior that everyone is adopting around me.

“Hey, dude!” JungHyun says and shakes his friend’s hand.

All I can say is that the walk to school was positively awkward, with both of them trying to integrate my sorry ass into whatever shit they were talking about. It seems like since the accident people treat me as if I’d throw a tantrum every five seconds without their constant attention. I’m fine, thank you very much. Or I’m just trying to be, but then, it’s just none of your business.

I don’t want things to change. I don’t need them to. I was fine before and then the fucking accident just ruined my little quiet bubble that I’ve so well constructed. I was just the lonely, introverted kid. Now I’m the lonely, introverted kid that people pity and try to talk to. It’s even worse.

But what confuses, shocks me the most is the moment I open the doors and walk in the dreaded high school. It’s that moment when the curtain lifts and the dancing elephant enters and all the people just shut up and stare at the poor animal and wait for him to jump through a circle on fire.

This is me, the elephant in jeans and a jacket. Too big to be missed.

They are all whispering and looking at me as I walk towards my locker. It’s even worse than the walk to this new hell. Suddenly, I’m not invisible anymore. It’s like I have a huge, phosphorescent banner glued to my forehead saying ‘stare here’. Is this the way Yoongi felt all the time people were looking at him, talking behind his back as if he weren’t there?

No.

Why am I talking about Yoongi?

I didn’t care about Yoongi. I didn’t know him. It was just an accident. It could have happened to anyone. I’m alive. That’s all that matters. I didn’t know Yoongi. 

_Of course you knew me, idiot! I kissed you, with the tongue and everything._

And this is the moment, the moment I turn around, because someone must me making fun of me, mocking me. Imitating his voice to scare me, to make me have ‘a crazy kid moment’ right in front of everyone to become school’s new attraction. New weird toy that everyone can play with. But there’s no one behind me. My brother is somewhere in front of me talking to some guys, but here, here it’s just me. The voice has come from somewhere. Maybe I’ve just imagined it. This must be it. I’m going crazy.

No, I can’t.

So I start walking to the class, screw the lockers, I need everything to be quiet. But it’s not, because:

“Hi! I’m Lisa. I’m so sorry about what happened to you. Truly. Everyone is so saddened by all you’ve been through, especially because…but I guess I don’t need to tell you what you’ve…sorry, I’m blabbering.” the girl with short, blonde hair says out of the blue, cutting my way.

I look at her for a couple of seconds. I just want to run away from this place, but I can’t, so I just say:

“Thanks…” and I just sprint towards the classroom that seems like now is an oasis.

_She’s cute. Too dizzy and annoying sometimes, but she dances pretty well. You should see her moving her hips._

Nope. This can’t be happening. I must be imagining his voice. The voice isn’t real. This isn’t real. Please, just go away.

There’s nothing I can do now as I’m sitting in the classroom, with the teacher at the desk. I just put my head on my desk and close my eyes. To erase everything. The voice isn’t real. Yoongi is dead.

_Of course I’m dead, you idiot. You are so slow, you know? It’s so annoying, too, your head. How can you bear to be trapped in this bore fest?! And now I’m trapped in here too. Boohoo._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are well loved ❤❤


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy :)

To fuck up. Fucked up.

Pretty much an accurate description of the Presidency of George W. Bush, if I were to listen to the Urban Dictionary.

But in my case, it’s just my life, my sweet, dear life, 17 years of constant fucking up and screwing things so much that at some point you don’t even know when you don’t do it.

_Alright, dude, now it’s even gloomier in your head than before. Can you honestly just stop pitying yourself and do something about it. Really! It’s getting…boring?_

Oh, I forgot to tell you, this is my new little, tiny problem that I literally have in my fucking head since yesterday. The beginning of school for me.

Or better, the beginning of a new disaster. The start of something I don’t have any idea how to control. But I’m certain this cannot be real, the voice inside (?) my head that keeps interrupting my train of thought. I-I-it can’t be possible. It’s obviously a side effect of the accident, the guilt and everything else that comes with it.

Because I’m alive and he’s dead and with each passing day, it looks like all that shit was my fault. My childish behavior. He died because of me, I hid inside a closet, I accepted the helmet, I-

_Dude, really. It’s not that deep. You didn’t kill me for Christ’s sake and from what can I see, I’m quite alive in your little head of yours. Then why would I be talking to you right now, if I weren’t even half alive?_

Again and again. This isn’t real. I’m not going crazy. I can’t be getting crazy. Bad things, things like this only happen to people you don’t know. To strangers. Like Min Yoongi. This is just…some phase. The guilt.

Of course I shouldn’t be guilty. I have no reason for it.

This-this voice is just a figment of my imagination, it will go away, I have no reason to tell my parents about it. There’s no reason to make them even more concerned about me.

They’ll think that I’m crazy!

_Well, aren’t you? I’ve never talked to a voice in my head for that matter. Cool as I was._

You shouldn’t talk to a voice in your mind. I’m not. I’m truly not but how can I ignore it when it keeps interrupting me on and on and on?!

I thought waking up in the morning, the next day, Tuesday, it will be gone. And it wasn’t. Still there, more annoying and vivid than ever.  

_Morning, sunshine! What a lovely day, don’t you think? Another bore fest in your mind. Do you know you have no  idea about Chemistry? Or Math for that matter. It’s quite sad…truly._

And this is how I started my morning. With my own, personal radio chiming from my own personal head. Congratulations! You’ve also won the jackpot of the lunatics! Enjoy an eternity in the looney house.

This is not how I want my life to be.

_Well, it’s not better than that the way you live outside your looney house. Should I remind you that you have no friends? I’m your only solution right now._

Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Shut up! Shut it! You’re not real!! You’re dead. Dead. In the ground. It’s not my fault that you-you…you hit the car. It’s not. Just shut up and let me pity myself and live my boring life. Please…leave. Please.

It seems that this shit only works in cartoons or movies because in reality I shouted all of this, at 7 in the morning, while everyone in my house was wide awake. Capable of hearing me screaming my lungs out at…well, practically me.

The door opens so quickly and there’s my mother, heavy breathing like she ran a marathon and there’s me, in the middle of the room, talking to my imaginary voice.

_I’m real, you fucker! I know that you’ve peed your pants in 5 th grade and cleaned the mess with wet wipes._

“JungKook! Is everything alright? I heard…screaming from here and I thought that-“

“I’m good. I was…just shouting at…a game on my phone. It’s a really really hard to play…” I say because I just cannot tell my over panicking mother that I was screaming at my dead…what!?

_Too cool to be your friend dude. And look where that brought me. To be your personal brain assistant. Such a shitty job._

“Oh…well, sweetie, you scared me. I thought that-it doesn’t matter really. You should hurry up, okay? I’ll drive you to school today, right? Mother and son time.” she smiles, too forced and I feel sorry for her.

Now I have someone else to pity. I just want to go to her and hug her and say that I’m fine, that we’re fine, that everything passed and it’s all good. Are we? When I’m scared shitless that I’m going nuts and she freaks out from every little thing?

_You’re saying that I’m crazy too? That hurt. Also, your mother’s tits are huge._

“Sure. I’ll hurry up. Sure.” I say.

_Yeah, sure, after you rub it for the tenth time._

And I sigh, because it’s not real, it will pass, like everything. I’m not crazy. I’m not. These-these things don’t appear out of the blue. They don’t. It’s only delayed post-traumatic stress.

_I’m telling you what’s traumatic. Your closet. And music taste. Who the fuck listens to Twenty one pilots anymore?_

Me.

And so I go to school, trying to ignore the voice that’s nagging me more than my grandmother. It almost feels real. Like it’s really him.

_Because it’s me. Min Yoongi. What should I do to prove to you that I’m real?_

Nothing. Just fuck off.

No, I’m not starting to talk to some imaginary crap. Pull it together JungKook.

But I can’t, because as I walk on the hallways it seems like everyone is staring at me, judging me, knowing about my tiny little problem. They all know, that’s why those two are-

_They are laughing at a fucking joke, you chicken. Just go to the fucking locker, get your books and go to class. And if you can, make some conversation with the cute chick that’s been staring at you for some while. You know, real conversation._

I try not to look at the ‘chick’ staring at me, I just rapidly grab my stuff and head for my Math class. I’ll survive this. I must, right? This is just another normal day.

_If you say so. Why don’t you want to talk to me? I won’t bite._

And this is what makes me yelp in the Math class, causing everyone to stare at me, plus the teacher.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Jeon?” the teacher asks, like he’s actually concerned.

I spot, once again, the chick that’s been staring at me. What was her name again? Lila?

_Lisa, you moron. She’s Lisa and you know, right now you’re actually a hot topic in this school. Of course, because of the former me, but still. Take advantage of it, kiddo. Have some fun until you end up like me. Counseling for free hormonal teenagers with emotional baggage._

“Excuse me, can I go to the bathroom?” I ask the teacher and I’m certain he’ll shout at me or something, tell me what a prick I am but he just lets me go.

_Told you. Hot topic. Even among teachers. They feel sorry for you so they let you do whatever. They feel guilty too._

I run towards the bathroom and I close the stall door after me, after I check for the bathroom to be empty and then…well, it is not my proudest moment.

“Shut up! Just, for fuck’s sake, why-whatever you are, why won’t you just shut up?  Like…what did I do to you? Except for the accident? Do I really deserve it?” 

Yep. I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole. From the second day of having a voice in my head, I’ve started talking to it.

_Not much, okay? It’s just boring in here so what am I supposed to do? Listen to your inner monologue? Of course not. So I talk. Embrace it, dude. Just, go with the flow. I went with it._

“You’re dead.” I say, because fuck it.

Let’s just go full nutsy mode. Why not? Stay in a bathroom and talk to…Yoongi.

_Sort of alive. I’m talking. So…let’s just assume that my soul is somehow trapped in your body and just my body is sort of…dead. But the best part of me is that I’m still living. Yay! And we’re together._

And even though I’m trying to…well, think that this foolery is real, I can’t. We’re in the real world, not in some movie where this shit is possible. But I can’t be going crazy.

_Calm down. Take a breath. You know, following my lead you’d just be so well off. Just think of it. So much pussy and tits and-_

“Shut up. For an hour, just keep your mouth shut, whatever the heck you are.” I say, which is weird because I’m practically talking to myself.

_Fine. But you’ll miss me so much. Btw, do something about the Lisa girl. She’s hot. Imagine getting a blow job from her._

“Gross!” I say, without even thinking about it.

I’m 17, hormonal and a virgin, but now, thinking about it, the idea of getting blown by her isn’t truly too attractive.

_Well, you know what that means, right? You’re into guys. Would you rather-_

“I’ve told you to shut the fuck up. For an hour.”

_Fine._

And so I go back to class, everyone is still staring at me, especially that girl, Lisa. What am I supposed to do? Talk to her?

Heck, I have far more important issues than that. Like me going crazy.

But the secondary issue does come to me during lunch break, while I’m sitting all alone at a table in the back of the room. My usual spot. My ‘voice’ seems like he respects its/his promise because he (?) shuts up even when she sits right next to me and I notice that her skirt is so short that it barely covers her…what are those called? Yeah, thighs. I know it should turn me on, really, and I’m trying to see the fact that she’s sexy, in the way she’s biting her lips and coming closer to me, but I feel…well, not much. It’s probably just the post-traumatic stress at cause.

That must be the cause for all my problems.

“JungKook…I wanted to make sure that everything is alright. I think that you went through so much and that you need some company.” she says, looking down at my…crotch (?) “I want to make you feel better again…”

Great. I have no idea what to do now. Scream for my inner voice to give me some advice? Chicken out?

But I only stare at my hands, her hands and by accident at her breasts, really, I didn’t mean it. They are nice, I guess.

“Do you want to touch them?” she asks and I choke on my own saliva.

This is a first.

_Of course you want to touch them._

Great. The voice, again.

“Ahmmm…”

_Say, yes. Come on dude, this is your chance of getting some action. Tell her to meet you after classes to go home with you to ‘study’. It works. Just think: I’m hot, I’m hot, I’m hot. And you’ll feel pumped and ready for popping that cherry._

And like every other normal 17 year old teenager, I just run and hide in the janitor’s closet. Fantastic.

_Dude, when we were about to get some action. You’re…weird. How the fuck did I make you kiss me? At a party._

And there was the broom, Mrs. Dorris. On my right, looking at me as if she was judging me. The last thing I need is a broom talking to me.

But she doesn’t.

The voice does.

_Hello. I need an answer. Only with sincerity this relationship can work for both of us. Do you actually think that for me it’s easy?_

“That was my first kiss, you jerk. You stole my first kiss. Because I was scared and you just leaned in and kissed me. Great, now I’m talking to you. Again.”

_This is a step. Oh._

“What if I don’t want a blow job from a girl that I don’t even know?” I ask.

_So you’re a romantic?_

“You know what? I’m not talking to you, okay? You’re not real. I don’t hear you.” I say and finally open the door to civilization.

And I breath out. I can make it through this day. Of course I can. Nothing else can happen. Nothing. Nothing.

The worst already has had.

Or not.

You should never say that the worst has already happened. That’s never true and karma is a bitch.

_I know, right?_

Ugh.

Because when I close the locker door, ready to go home, finally, I see him. I don’t know who he is, but he’s there, looking at me, with a nice smile, too nice of a smile and some big, warm eyes and…

_You’re whipped. Just admit it. You totally like guys._

I totally do not.

“Hey. I know this looks weird and whatever, but I’m Jimin and I’m sorry that you’ve gone through all that stuff, but if you need someone to talk to…you can talk to me or just, you know, hang out and stuff…” he says and smiles.

Great. Another person who pities me. Me it’s just not enough anymore it seems.

_Are you crazy? Just say hi, dude, thank you so much. Are you free, we could go grab a bite or something like that? Come on, JungKook. Make me proud._

So proud that I feel like running once again, but I don’t. Nothing even worse can happen if I talk to him, right? He’s just trying to be nice and help, right?

I’m fine. I’m not some sort of freak of nature or anything. He doesn’t know about my new problem. I’m just like him. Yes. Of course, I can talk to him.

“Hi! Thanks…would you-you know, I mean-would you like to-of course if you’re not busy because people usually are-grab a bite or something. Nothing weird. Just talking. Or not. I mean talking. Talking. Of course.” I say.

I’m dumb. That was dumb.

_Yep, it was. Very, but you did it. Minus the free blowjob and you’re on the right track._

Right track? I’m listening to the voice of a dead person in my head. Fantastic. That’s a right track…

“Oh, yeah, sure. I really want to eat a hamburger.” Jimin laughs and I laugh because social conventions, I guess.

_Good job. Now, talk to him. Ask him what was the last movie he saw. People like that question._

“So, what was the last movie you saw?” I ask, because just fuck it!

I can think about everything later. I can. This is fine. I’m fine. I’ll be fine, the voice will disappear. It’s not my fault for nothing. Not mine, just an accident. Right. Smile. Act normal. You’re normal. You like girls. Lisa’s boobs. They were nice. She’s nice. Now she hates you. Totally.

_That was some great internal speech. Very motivational._

“Annabelle. But I hate-hate horror movies. My friends made me watch it with them. You?” he asks and looks at me.

It makes me feel small. And strange.

To be honest, I don’t know. I don’t. Because in the past 6 months I didn’t do much. Just played games on my laptop, trying to…well, forget shit.

_And that worked so well. Just say something. Captain America. Say that. I’ve watched it._

“Captain America.”

“Oh, cool. I love super hero movies.” he says.

And finally we arrive at the fast food and we both buy hamburgers, which taste surprisingly good and somehow fake, but this is my last problem for the day.

Why the heck would he want to spend time with me? Nobody wanted until this point to hang out with me-

_It’s not like you’ve ever tried. You’re now something new for everybody. Just enjoy your popularity and maybe listen to me from time to time._

He’s nice, I suppose and cute, but there’s no real point in hanging out with him. After all, he’ll get bored of me when he realizes what a bore fest I am.

_Are you serious? Seriously?! You know you give up far too easily, right? Talk to him, get to know him. That’s how you make friends._

So I just:

“I have to go. I-I have a lot of homework to do.” I say to him and he genuinely seems saddened by the fact that I leave.

He’s probably just a very good liar.

“Oh, okay. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow at school right?”

“Yeah, right.” I say and finally leave and even though this-everything is fucked up, I feel calmer.

I don’t need friends, or people to pretend that are my friends. I’m okay this way, I simply don’t need their burden.

_Dude…really, this is getting depressing and tiring. It’s like I’m invisible or something._

When I finally get home, my brother is weirdly waiting for me on the couch, with the laptop on his lap and when he sees me enter the room, his whole face brightens. What’s wrong with everybody?!

_Idk. You?_

“So…how was it outside? I mean, at school.” he asks and coughs.

“Fine.” I say, throwing my backpack on the counter.

I had enough school and bullshit for one day.

“Did you meet anybody new?” he asks me and he sounds way too curious.

JungHyun has never been curious about my life or me in general. I’m the invisible person.

_Because you fucking want to be. It’s your fault. If you haven’t noticed, people actually try to talk to you but you simply just push them away._

Freaking voice.

“A guy. Jimin, I think.” I answer after a while.

“Oh. He’s nice.” he says, going back to what he was doing.

Maybe JungHyun made Jimin talk to me in the first place, to make me feel better.

_Or, the guy actually wanted to talk to your sorry ass._

Or not.

_Give him a chance._

I’m not gay.

_I’ve never said you were. I’ve only said that you need friends._

Oh, yeah, because taking advice from a freaking voice in my head is sane or fine.

As I said, I’m fucked. My little bubble of normality and quietness has just burst open and I’m out in the wild. I have no freaking idea what I should do. Tell my parents? Heck not. Tell JungHyun? Even worse idea.

I’m just fucked. And I need the voice to shut up. I just want to turn back time and be back to normal. I wish nothing had happened. I wish…I wish Yoongi weren’t dead.

_But I’m not!_

“I wish you’d just shut up you freaking…thing!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are well loved ❤❤  
> btw, i'm such a horrible person for forgetting to add this in the first place, but better later than never, right?  
> i just want to thank you Honey0613 for all your lovely and thoughtful comments that just make me so happy  
> you're a gem


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy :)

_Morning, sunshine! The sky is so bright, well not really, but, look at the dark side. There are clouds. Right?! Come on, wake up you lazy one!!_

And this is how I’ve been waking up each and every fucking morning for about 3 days straight, with my new personal voice to chirp in my head. Because it seems like it didn’t disappeared. Still there, happier than ever and me gloomier than ever.

_You could wake up and do something useful instead of pitying yourself. Come on, you’ve wasted so many chances with Lisa and Jimin. Why would you think that avoiding them is a great idea?_

“Because it is, and now just shut the fuck up and let me sleep for 5 more minutes.” I say.

And yes, I talk back to this invisible Yoongi, who might just be a figment of my imagination. Or of my grief. Or both.

I’ve just honestly given up on trying to avoid the unavoidable. It seemed like ignoring the voice was doing me no good, except for giving me a terrific headache so I thought that I should just embrace my nutsy episode. Because it will go away. It must. There will only be a couple of harder weeks and then, gradually, the voice will just ‘poof’.

Yoongi is dead.

It was not my fault. This ‘Yoongi’ isn’t real.

_Can you just stop it with that? I’m alive, without a personal body, but I’m happy with yours too. It’s better than being totally dead. Plus, I can totally stare at your mom’s boobs without her knowing._

Great, he has no shame either.

_Talk to Jimin. He likes you._

“He doesn’t like me, okay? We talked for what? 20 minutes and then I ran home. Then I just avoided him. You’re honestly only saying that to piss me off. Just shut the fuck up.”

_If you say so._

“I do.”

In reality, avoiding Jimin meant hiding from my fear of being gay and facing some other feelings, other than hating my new mental state. A couple of freaking times I even ran to the janitor’s closet where Mrs. Dorris is or I’ve even hid my head in the locker. Breaking news, the broom isn’t talking to me.

So, yeah, my life is taking too many unexpected turns while I try to keep everything hidden from my parents, or at least my mother. This is totally great. Great. I can make it like this a few more weeks. Of course I can. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Right.

_Then talk to Lisa. Or at least invite her over to ‘study’._

“Didn’t you drop it?” I ask him.

I’ve lost all my sanity or pride for that matter. It took me only three days to talk to a voice in my head. How many days will it take me to convince myself that earth is flat and floats on a turtle?

_Well, it would be totally great if it took you this little to talk to an actual person? Bone and flesh and all of that? It might do you good, but this is just my opinion._

But my life is totally fine. Why wouldn’t it be? I just have to keep everything hidden from everybody.

Just act normal. That’s the key. Act normal.

This is my new mantra. Fake it until you make it, but how can I fake normality when I’m already talking to myself? Out loud?

It seems like when I go to school people still keep looking at me while they think I don’t notice. And I wouldn’t notice if it weren’t for this Yoongi who constantly points it out like it’s some sort of reward. Like I’m supposed to enjoy the attention.

_Great, good job! You’re finally saying my name. What a good boy._

Maybe I’m really insane.

_Or not. Don’t call me like that. It hurts._

And then, when I walk to my next hellish class, I see Lisa.

_Finally something good happens! And you can’t even escape it._

She’s standing near her locker applying lipstick, a bright red color and she has to see me too and wave at me, just to make everything even more obvious.

_Go to her and say hi. And invite her over. Your popularity will finally die at some point so take advantage of it while you can. I’d do it for you but it seems like I can’t think for you. As much as I’d like to-_

Just shut the fuck up! I’ll do it, okay? Just to prove to you that I’m not gay or whatever and that I can actually get a freaking…blowjob from someone.

At this point I can’t even be honest with myself or you because I have Yoongi to shout at me and criticize everything that I do.  

So I go straight to her and she smiles at me and maybe she only pities me and I feel even worse because I don’t want to talk to her, I don’t want anything from her. But I’ll do it.

_That’s my boy._

Ugh!

“Hi!” I say, slightly leaning on the locker because this is what cool dudes are supposed to do.

_Yeah, sure, dude._

“Hi! Haven’t seen you in a while. I was worried for you…” she says, coming closer to me.

This is good. Be calm. There’s nothing you should be worried about. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

“If you still want to, we could go study together…I suppose you’ve missed so much while you were…sick, you know.” she says, smiling and playing with my t-shirt.

I’ve lied. There’s a lot I should be worried about. I’m literally listening to a creation of my grieving and guilty mind. Telling me to get a blowjob from a girl that I don’t even know.

I’m so fucked.

_Say yes, say yes! I haven’t had fun in so long. Also, you have the master of sex right…in you, right?! You know what I mean. I can teach you so much cool stuff!! We’ll be unstoppable._

Fantastic.

“Ahm…we could go after classes at my house. To study, of course.” I say.

Of course.

“That would be so great! See you after school!” Lisa says and then, boom, she kisses me on the cheek.

Just like that.

_Crap, dude. Your brain just boiled. From only a kiss. On the cheek. Is not that deep. Get it?!_

To be quite honest, on my own I wouldn’t have been able to score a ‘date’ with a hot girl so having Yoongi in my head might have its own perks. Or not, as it shows during the next classes as he shouts at how great a chick’s ass looks and how another lost weight but her boobs remained the same size.

You know, I always thought that the top of my pyramid was a celestial creature, something from out of this world, different from all these mortals, including myself. But when me, the sand, somehow became the same with that brick, maybe a change happened or maybe Yoongi was always this way. Not that special.

_Hello, I can still hear you, alright? I was human and right now I’m only, let’s just say…a spirit. I’m here to help. Maybe it’s like in one of those movies where if you do your part or make the person do what he’s supposed to do you finally find your peace and die? I don’t want that, really. I really don’t. But it’s in my lovely nature to be nice._

Yeah, of course.

What I’ve discovered about our extraordinary relationship is that as time passes it’s getting harder to ignore him or interrupt Yoongi. To shut him up. It’s like he’s getting stronger and stronger with each passing second, especially because I do talk to him quite a lot since I’ve honestly just lost faith. My hope, that after another couple of days he’ll just disappear, is almost gone. He seems to be here for good and right now I’m just not too certain whether or not I’m crazy or not. Maybe he’s truly real.  

_Of course you’re not, but if you were to listen to me, your life would be better. Just think about it: so many chicks for both of us and maybe free food and the teachers giving us good grades. It truly helps that you’re pretty cute, you know, I’ve noticed that when you were alive too. But with your looks and my brains, we would be unstoppable. Popular again._

Why do his words scare me so much?

_Yeah, because you’re a weird introvert and I’m trying to make you cool. You have to trust me. Everything will start with Lisa, you’ll date her but don’t be too interested. Also, you should keep talking to-_

As I’ve said, it’s even harder to- _Jimin and be friendlier with other people that I show you-_ make him shut up. Am I going even crazier? I just want all of this to stop. Just…stop.

But it doesn’t, it doesn’t because when I leave school, I’ve forgotten about my little talk with Lisa, so when I see her waiting for me in front the gate, I’m just…flabbergasted. I want my quiet and peace, and she and Yoongi and Jimin are those loud helicopters passing over my house for so many times just to annoy you.

“JungKookie!” she says, way too happily.

Great.

_Act happy. Come on, a smile. This is a good boy._

Great. Fantastic.

“Hey!”

“Can I call you Kookie? It sounds adorable.” she says, snaking an arm somehow around mine, until her fingers touch mine.

It feels like electric shocks, but not in a good way. Just in the ‘get out of my bubble thank you very much’ kind of way.  

“Yes, sure.” I say and try to smile again.

I look like a constipated rhino. My perfect everyday look.

“So, Kookie… Do you like me?” Lisa asks, finally intertwining her fingers with mine.

Great.

_Of course you like her, answer quicker. Come on JungKook, I have big plans for today._

She’s abrupt and Yoongi’s an idiot.

“Yes, sure. You’re nice and…you know, you’re very nice with me…I mean, with everything that has happened and stuff…so yeah…”

_And that, ladies and gentleman, sounded like crap. But it at least makes all the girls swoon thinking you’re this cute and shy special unicorn._

Constipated rhino.

_As you say._

“Oh, you’re so cute, I can’t believe I haven’t noticed you until now.” she says so adorably that I understand that she’s only hanging out with me to raise her popularity, make her look all nice and sweet.

_And why do you care? You’ll get what you want, she’ll get what she wants. That’s how things work, you know?! Just, keep acting like this and you’ll get into her pants._

And this is exactly what I don’t want to do, but somehow his constant talking or maybe the fact that he might also have his own feelings, make me excited and anxious too. Like I want all of this to happen when in reality even me, the sand is crumbling and making a hole for another rhino to poop. This time diarrhea.

_Your comparisons are so disgusting._

We finally reach my house and I know that my parents are at work and my brother never comes directly home from school, so the house is all mine.

_Ours._

Am I really fine?

I don’t have to think about anything else because it looks like Lisa is as pumped as Yoongi, as she very excitedly asks me where my bedroom is. She’s a very straightforward person.

_And that’s good. Stop shitting your pants and become a man._

I want everything back to normal. I don’t want this voice that seems to be taking control over my being.

_I’m not. You’re just listening to me. Stop whining._

But I do lead her to my bedroom, which to my surprise is quite clean. It looks like my mother couldn’t help herself and clean it before she left for work…

“Oh, it’s really nice, your bedroom, I mean. Your bed is big.” Lisa says, throwing herself onto it.

Homework my ass.

I just stand in the doorframe, looking at her being so comfortable in an almost total stranger’s bedroom, sitting on his bed like it’s no big deal.

_You know, for normal people, it’s no big deal._

I’m not normal, I’m reminded this every day. The accident, the voice and now this.

And I just stand, because I want to kick her out but something doesn’t let me to. I’m feeling strange and scared in my own house because this is foreign territory for me. I’ve escaped the desert. Now I’m in the jungle and there are far too many freaking animals out there.

The sand has nothing to do with the vegetation.

_Shut up and stop looking like an idiot. Go to her. Come on, JungKook._

She makes some space on the bed for me so I sit right next to her, looking down at her face. She’s pretty.

_That’s all you can say? Make me proud._

“Do you-do you want to give me a blow job?” I ask her in one breath.

I’ve just said it, like a jerk who doesn’t care about people’s feelings.

Was that Yoongi?

She laughs, simply, she just laughs and comes closer to me to look into my eyes. I have to look somewhere else. This is not me. Where is me?

“You’re so direct.” she says, becoming suddenly serious. “I like it.” she laughs, kissing me on the mouth.

It’s quick and nothing much, but…

_We get it, you didn’t like it. I liked it._

And then everything happens so quickly and I almost have no recognition of what happens. It just feels in some way, I couldn’t say it’s good or bad, but it’s just, it feels like I’m in a dream, that I’m out of my body and someone else is in there.

What is happening to me?!

She just stand off the bed, on her knees on the floor and quickly she unzips my pants. My breathing becomes heavier, like before you just know you’ve screwed up, that you’ve spilled ink over your exam paper in the last five minutes and you know you’ve fucked it all up. That’s how it feels.

_Or you could admit that it feels good. Or just shut up. Enjoy it._

Somehow, my fucking dick is in her hand and she starts rubbing it and I’m certain I won’t last long. And not because I’m enjoying it or because this is so new, it’s such a mix of emotions and-

_She starts sucking our dick while still rubbing it so nicely at the base, taking care of course of our balls. The worst part about all of this is that we’ll come so fast. I usually last for 10 minutes, but JungKook here can’t even three, because he so quickly spills everything in her mouth and I’m telling y’all, his brain has boiled a little bit. But it’s fine, it felt good and we have time to perfect all of this. That’s why I’m here. To help him._

What the fuck has just happened?

The last thing I recall is her leaving my house, kissing me once again on the cheek with a knowing smile and I feel almost violated. This is not what I wanted and it still happened. At least Yoongi has stopped talking but soon after my parents have come, my mother so happy to see me. It makes me feel so bad seeing her like this. I don’t even know what to do.

I’m not a good son or anything. Why is she acting like this?

Or maybe she doesn’t, because her smile fades so quickly and she looks only sad and tired as if she hadn’t slept lately. As if-but she couldn’t know about my little problem. I was careful. I was. She can’t. Nobody can know about this.

_Or else they’ll think you’re crazy. You’re not. Trust me. Calm down because everything will be fine. She must be like this from work._

She must, right?

I have such an uncomfortable state of mind that all the while I sit on the bed, just staring at the ceiling I can feel it that something bad will happen.

_That’s just your pessimism and paranoia. You know what I was thinking?_

“No.” I say out loud.

It’s much more comfortable to talk to him like this. I try to whisper everything. I hope. But sometimes I even can’t help talking to him like he were here, next to me, still alive.

_I’m starting to really enjoy this. Our little connection. But you know what I was thinking?_

“No.”

I don’t want to.

_Well, that for a couple of hours or less I could, you know…think for you._

And then I froze. I froze because there is some strange coldness in his voice, he sounds different. I-

_I mean, it wouldn’t be for that much and I would truly help you. Do the shit you’re scared to do. Help you with tests and girls. Just, you know, share a little bit with me. I-I can’t lie. I miss being alive, having my own body. I loved every single second of being 19 and free to do whatever. And now, everything is gone and only this has remained out of me and I just need to live for a little more. Even in your body. I miss it, JungKook. It was unfair!! It shouldn’t have happened. I want my life back! I need it! I had everything planned, knew what I wanted, I was popular, I had everything and everything was taken from me and you’re alive when you don’t even enjoy any of this. You don’t deserve this body!!! I do!!!_

I’m normal, this can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. You aren’t real.

_This is real! And it’s not such a big deal to share a little bit with me…after all, we’re both two minds in one body, we’d only make good use out of it. It would still be yours, but just think about how I’m feeling, being trapped in here without any power of decision. I need this, JungKook! It was unfair! I wasn’t supposed to die at 19!!! You must understand me, you must! It could have been you but somehow it was me. It is unfair that you’re living and-_

“Go away! Go away, whatever you are!!! This is my body, my life! I’m not letting you have this!! Go away, I need you to go away, I want to be back to normal! You know I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry that you died…but I just want to be back to being only me. I’m crazy. I can’t be crazy. I can’t!! I can’t!!”

I was not even realizing that I was screaming.

Sometimes, sometimes you just don’t even know when you’re fucking up, when you’re on the edge of that cliff ready to fall, with your eyes covered.

I’m like this, screaming, scared. I’m scared, because no matter how much I’m trying to make myself believe this is fine, it isn’t.

My rhino isn’t even constipated. He’s half dead and ready to take control over my body.

“Go away from my mind!! Go away, please God, make him go away, go away, go away…” I keep saying until the door to my room opens and there’s my mother, with the same saddened and scared expression and when I look in her yes and then, I truly know I’ve just fucked up.

My secret is in the open and I’m so shitless scared that I don’t even care.

I want everything to go away!

I want Yoongi to go away from my mind. I don’t care if he’s real or not.

“Please make him go away!! Why doesn’t he go away, mom? Mom…I want…I want everything to be back to normal!! Make him go away!” I keep saying because deep inside I know this is some sort of end.

The worst fuck up I’ve ever done.

I’m fucked up.

So I just close my eyes and pray this is only a bad dream.

When I open them, my mom is still there and my father and brother.

_I’ve told you I’m real. You should have calmed down, dude. Now we’re both in big trouble. Big, big, trouble. But congrats, I don’t want to take control over your body when you’ll in the looney house._

Looney house.

Hospital.

“Mom…”

“I’m here, baby. I’m here.” she says and comes to hug me too tightly.

Everything has been too tight lately. My body, my soul, my life.

_Could you just shut up with all this pitying? I get it, you’ve fucked up. Well, I’m dead. And trapped._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are well loved


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommandation : [ Sleepsong-Bastille ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2cuR_Vi6vas&index=1&list=RD2cuR_Vi6vas), it's one of my favorites and I feel like it really sets the mood for this chapter.
> 
> enjoy :)

To screw up. Screwing up.

To say the wrong name during sex.

Well, it doesn’t really sound like me because I’ve only just found it on the Urban Dictionary, thinking that it’s funny or that, truth be told, would make me funnier. But this is something that the dude sitting at the bar would say, the dude checking a chick’s racks while drinking some beer from the bottle.

This isn’t something I would say right now, because what’s expected of me at this point is to be sober and sad and maybe even depressed.

On my fucking way to recovery.

Another fucking pyramid or a shit ton of stairs that I’m supposed to climb without having my ass rip off from falling way too many times. The problem is that my pyramid is already crumbling or maybe it has always been that way. Because it has been sitting all this time in a hole filled with rhino poop. A crazy rhino with contagious explosive diarrhea.

_Fantastic. Your monologue truly made me feel better. Why don’t you say where the fuck we are?! Stop acting all deep and philosophical, we both know we’re in deep shit. Rhino diarrhea. See, I said it._

Well, I’m in a clinic for teenagers with mental disorders. I knew it would come to this when I saw the way my parents were looking at me, like they’ve seen me for the first time. As if right now I’m a totally different person. But I’m in a fucking clinic with other ‘kids’ that are supposed to be just like me. Troubled.

Is it supposed to make me feel better?

The fuck knows.

I take pills every single fucking day and there’s no change. Yoongi is still in my head, complaining every single day because he hates so much living in here.

Do you think I like it?

_Well, if it weren’t for your little outburst, we would be totally fine right now, having our dick sucked and staring at girls’ boobs. But you had to act all ‘special snowflake’ on me. Good job, Sherlock. You know I’m real as much as you know that you’ve rubbed it this morning in the shower._

You liked that, alright, and if I remember correctly you’ve been begging me to do it.

_Shut up._

As you can see, I’m on better terms with Yoongi right now. I’m trying to forget about my episode or his crazy request. I’m already in the looney house. What bad shit can happen anymore from here?

What doesn’t help my cause is the fact that I have two roommates.

Two.

Two, two dumb, noisy and annoying rhinos that keep shitting diarrhea all over my crumbling pyramid.

Leave my pyramid alone, okay?!

It used to be so shiny and nice, me the sand and all that shit and now it’s just crap.

But let’s just go back to my new roommates, forced down my throat by my doctor. Kim Seokjin. Bad jokes and weird back rubs that are supposed to make the fact that someone I barely know died and is now trapped in my head simply better.

He also thinks that trapping me in a room with two other even crazier people is a good idea.

Well, it’s not.

They’re loud, obnoxious and I would like so very much to kick them in the balls. Or at least throw a skunk in the room with them.

_That would make you even crazier. Stick to talking to dead people not to actually killing still living ones._

I’ve just chosen to do quite a big, huge fast forward to spare you the boring details of my mother crying, my father trying to make her feel better, my brother staring at us from the door frame, me sitting in the middle of the room all the time and Yoongi shouting in my head half the time. Such a nice family reunion.

Let me introduce you to the spirit of Min Yoongi who so kindly chosen to move into my head.

Mom, Min Yoongi; Min Yoongi, mom.

_Isn’t it so lovely?_

But other than that little uncomfortable incident, things happened so smoothly. My mother kept crying, my father, well he just tried to act strong, my brother disappeared and I only tried to tell myself that everything is fine.

But once again, I’ve only managed to fuck up. Big time.

_Well, don’t be so harsh on yourself, you’re still alive and I’m dead, so I’d say I fucked up even worse than you._

Thank you very much for the reminder, really.

After all that drama, my parents started to calm down and then the big shit happened. The questions and everything, and to be honest, my level of honestly was ocean level low. I-I just couldn’t tell them the truth. I mean, what truth? I’m not even sure what’s going on with me.

But, just to cut it all short, they’ve decided that the best thing for me is to be thrown in a mental illness clinic and stay in here for a couple of weeks, or months while they try to make the whole deal as ‘invisible’ as possible. Because their dear son cannot be crazy, right?

Or at least, if other people don’t know about it, I must be normal. Right?!

Normal. Right.

They come to visit every day and it’s quite depressing, really, seeing them so washed out and sad when they look at me and barely touch my hands like they’re afraid that I’m made out of paper. Fueled by sappy monologues, telling me that very soon I’ll get out of here and go on with my life, as if it suddenly stopped while I’m in the clinic. I’m cruel probably to them, more with my mother than my father; on the brinks of crying each time she sees me, the visits are always cut short, my father hugging her tightly when they exit the clinic. The only one who lingers after them is JungHyun. My brother. He doesn’t look as affected or upset, maybe he came to terms with the fact that his brother is really lost. Or maybe he lost faith even before them.

I’m certain this-whatever this is, won’t go away, even with all these pills that they keep giving me. Or the hours of therapy and meaningless talks with doctor Kim. I’m starting to get along with Yoongi, which is the most frightening thing. At this point, I only talk to him in my head afraid not to divulge this strange secret once again.

_Yeah, because it makes everything better…_

But going back to my terrific roommates.

Kim TaeHyung and Park Chanyeol.

I have no freaking idea why they’ve also been thrown in here with me. They seem totally normal, except for their annoying and highly excitable nature. Oh, they’re also so loud, like elephants in a kitchen, extremely delicate and not obnoxious at all. Two dreams coming true in my room.

I’m supposed to get better, not worse.

_Look at the bright side. You still remain an introvert and I’m your only friend. Good freaking job._

I can’t tell you who’s better from them both because truth be told, I’ve never talked to them. Yeah, they’ve tried multiple times to speak to me, ask me questions and all that shit that supposedly nice people do, but I was so caught up in pitying myself that I simply ignored them altogether. It’s not like I would have wanted to talk to them. Their very talkative behavior scares me. So I just keep quiet around them.

_Like you do with everybody else. Why can’t you just admit that they are nice people and you’re a conceited douchebag?_

Because I’m not. I’m fine. Totally-

“Hey, do you want to play Monopoly with me?” freaking Park Chanyeol asks, waving the box in his hands.

Why doesn’t he give up? He should just give up. I don’t pay attention to him, I act like a douchebag towards him. I don’t need his…whatever this is.

_Why don’t you just admit that you’re afraid of making friends and becoming close to someone?_

I’m not. I’ve just gotten used to being alone.

He just stands there, in front of my bed, with the game in his hands, looking lanky, like a sad puppy. And something breaks inside me. So strange and cold feels the room and I want anything and I don’t know what.

_Your nonexistent soul back? Just saying…_

“Fine. But I’m not good at it.” I say, because why not?!

I’m in the looney house. Talking to someone in here is no big deal, it simply cannot make me crazier than I already am.  

“I’ll teach you, it’s fine.” he says and practically throws himself on the bed next to me.

His almost 2 meters long body squished on my tiny bed. Fantastic.

“So…you weren’t talking to us because you were sad, right? I was sad too, when I got in here…but then, I’ve found TaeHyung and he made staying in this place nicer. Having a friend is great, right?” he asks and he’s talking way too fast and smiling way too much and what’s missing is a tail wiggling from his butt.

“Right.”

He throws the contents of the box on the remaining space of the bed and then starts to arrange the game. He looks concentrated in a strange, almost adorable kind of way.

_I can’t believe you’ve just said that? Do you actually like him?_

I’m tolerating him. That’s all.

“Soooo…why did you get in here?” he asks and looks up at me with some big, bug like eyes.

I don’t have to answer that.

_But you will._

I won’t.

Or will I?

“Schizophrenia?”

“You’re asking, so you’re not sure about it?” Chanyeol raises an eyebrow and I suppose that maybe he’s not as stupid as I’ve made him be. “I was hospitalized because I have depression and…other stuff.” he says after a couple of seconds, and for the first time, the dumb smile falters from his face. “It doesn’t matter, right? We’re all here.”

Is he a murderer?

_Yes, JungKook, waiting to kill you._

“Wow.” I say and I suppose it came out too harsh or cold, because he looks even sadder.

Like a wet puppy sitting outside in the rain. What am I supposed to do with…this? It was such a bad idea accepting to play this stupid game with him. I don’t have to. I don’t. I don’t want to play a dumb game with a weird kid from a stupid clinic where I’m not supposed to be in.

“You know what? You should call TaeHyung. I don’t want to play anymore.” I say and get off the bed and walk towards the door as few cards and peons fall on the floor with a loud, strange noise.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks and maybe he sounds hurt and maybe I feel bad, but I try not to think about it, because I open the door and walk into the hallway, still feeling like crap. “JungKook…”

This is fine. I don’t need friends. I don’t want friends. This is totally fine. Everything will get back to normal, who makes friends in a clinic for mental disorders? I’m not crazy. He’s crazy. I-

_You are a jerk, really, JungKook. Just because you’re miserable you don’t have to make everybody feel that way. He was just trying to-_

He wasn’t trying to be anything. I’m not miserable, I’m totally fine and happy. I don’t mind being in here. I don’t even have to go to school or do freaking homework. Also, nobody wants to be friends with me. He’s no exception. He just acts this way because-

_You’re not even trying. You’ve just acted like a total douchebag. I thought you cared about how people felt. How are you now even better than all those ‘oh so mean kids at school’?_

Says the person who wanted to ‘just take control for a little way’ over my fucking body. Mine!!! That was totally and utterly out of place and why would you say and want that?!

_You’re still not over it. It was a suggestion, I wasn’t pushing it down your throat. If you can’t tell, I’m half dead and you’re fully alive, acting like a prick. I’d say you have it better than me._

No, I’m not. Because I have to share my head with you and because of you all of this has happened. It’s all your fucking fault.

Okay, maybe I’m not that fine or happy or okay after all.

Maybe I’m just sad and lost and lonely and afraid to ask for help. Maybe I’m miserable and I need  someone to hug me and tell me I’m alright, that I’ll be alright. I’m so tired of being pitied.

And then I see him and I stop in the middle of the hallway, because he is the last person I’d expect to see here, in this place. I’d even expect to see a unicorn pooping a rainbow or my rhino, not him. My heart starts beating so fast and I’m beginning to sweat from head to toe because I’m ashamed and scared and lightheaded.

_Park freaking Jimin. Great, exactly what we both needed! The question is, how did he know about your little problem?_

My brother. Because my brother is the only one who knows about him. Great. My brother…

He walks towards me with a little smile on his face and maybe he’s mocking me in his head, but I don’t want to believe that.

I’ve just acted like a jerk to someone. I’ve just been totally and utterly mean and cruel to someone.

“Hi…” he says and does a little wave that I suddenly reciprocate.

“Hi…” I say.

And we’re standing like this, with everyone passing by us and I don’t know what to say. What am I supposed to say?

_How are you? Haven’t seen you in a while? Like my new fancy hotel? Something JungKook, is not art or anything._

“Haven’t seen you in a while…” I say, but that was my fault too.

Avoiding him at every step.

“Yeah…Your brother told me about…you.” he says, with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

I’ve just cleaned mine on the jeans that I’m wearing.

“He thought that having some company would do you some good…this place is…”

“Depressingly colorful.” I say and we both laugh.

It’s the first time I’ve laughed in two weeks. Since my outburst.

“Yeah…”

“You didn’t have to come…we aren’t…” but I don’t say the rest; it feels wrong, saying that we aren’t friends.

_Totally. Doing fine till now._

“I know how it feels. My older brother was-he was charged in a mental institution too. It sucks, being alone in here.” he says.

_I didn’t know…_

“I’m sorry.” I say and realize that we’re still standing like that, in front of each other, in the middle of a busy hallway. “We…let’s sit down on those chairs.”

He doesn’t say anything, just follows me and chooses to sit on a bright yellow one. I choose the blue one.

“Yellow is my favorite.” he giggles and I notice that he makes dimples when he smiles.

“Did-did my brother make you talk to me in the first place? When I came to school after the…accident?” I ask, because I just can’t help it.

_Good job at screwing everything. Really, could you be less obvious than this?!_

I just need to know, alright?

He doesn’t answer immediately, he stares at his small hands and then at the hallway, before he turns his head to me.

“Yeah…but…I know it sounds bad, but I do like spending time with you.” he says and somehow it makes me feel sad, his words.

Because even though I’ve expected him to say this, I still have hoped that he chose to speak to me at his own accord. My fucking pyramid is crumbling a bit more.

_Damn to your freaking pyramid. I’ll shove a fucking pyramid down your ass just to make you shut up, okay?!_

“Are you angry?” he asks and I shake my head in response.

Maybe I can do this, make friends with someone. But who would want to make friends with someone crazy? You only pity them, not befriend them.

“I suppose your brother already gives you the lessons and homework, right?” he asks.

“Yeah…”

“Oh, well, I-I should be going now…tomorrow I have a test and I haven’t studied for it one bit. If you want, I can come to visit on Saturday and stay for longer.” he say, standing up.

“Yeah…if you want to.” I say and I stand up too and look at him, I’m just a bit taller than him and I’m aware this whole thing is awkward and he might not even come on Saturday because maybe his parents won’t let him to or he’s just realized what a freak show I am.

“Okay, well, see you on Saturday then.”

“Bye.” I say and wave at him, watching him turn around and leave.

Leave me alone again.

_I repeat, you have two totally functional roommates. And you should apologize to one of them. By the way, this was the most awkward conversation I’ve ever listened to, even more awkward than yours with Chanyeol._

But I don’t have the courage to go back to my room, our room and see Chanyeol probably sitting on the bed with the Monopoly game still opened because I’ve practically treated him like shit.

“JungKook. I’ve seen that you had some company earlier.” a voice way too similar to my doctor’s, Kim Seokjin, appears out of nowhere.

Great, the last thing that I needed.

“Mr. Kim…he’s a friend from school.” I say.

“That’s good, company does you good. How are you feeling? Actually, how are your roommates, are you getting along?” he asks way too eagerly.

“Yes, we’re…getting along.”

_Liar. If that’s what you call getting along._

What else am I supposed to say?

_The truth. That you are a jerk._

“Then I’ll let you go back to them.” he says and is about to leave when I ask him:

“What-what happened to Chanyeol?”

_And you expect him to tell you that? Really?_

“I can’t tell you that…if he wants to, then it’s okay. But otherwise, it is confidential.” Mr. Kim says and smiles at me for a couple of seconds before he really leaves.

So it seems like I have to go back to my room and face that one sad looking puppy. Because he cannot be a rhino. When I open the door, there’s Chanyeol wresting with Taehyung on the bed, looking way happier than before. They don’t even notice me, but that’s alright. It’s better like this. And overly excited puppy playing with a rhino. Still a rhino.

I just sit on the bed and grab the book that I’ve been trying to read for a couple of months now. Who doesn’t allow laptops and video games in a clinic?!

And suddenly, all the movement stops and they are both looking at me, or better said, Chanyeol is looking at me and TaeHyung is looking at Chanyeol. What a wonderful chain of shame and guilt, right?

Well, I can’t apologize with someone else in the room.

_Yeah, of course, your pride would be so wounded._

But soon after, they both go back to what they were doing and I realize that maybe they’ve just stopped trying to integrate me in their little group; right now I’m only invisible to them.

_Well, that’s the punishment for being a jerk. What did you expect? They are people, you know? And they both have feelings, not only you._

And it somehow hurts, all of this. Kindness ends at some point.

I suppose I’m all alone, even with my parents coming to visit me or my brother trying to…I’m not even sure what he’s trying to do. I feel lonely, even with Yoongi in my head, the loneliest I’ve ever been even though I’m surrounded by people. Most of it might be my fault, but it sucks, left to rot in the desert.

And then I look back at them and I suppose they at least have one another. I might not truly know what it’s wrong with them, but it doesn’t seem to affect them, their friendship.

_Now you are envious. Or are you only envious because they’ve stopped paying attention to you? I suppose is the latter, right? Just go and apologize._

Since when have you become this wise person? You’re like, 2 years older than me.

_Can you just shut up?_

I can’t just go there to them and say that I’m sorry. What if I don’t even believe it? How are they supposed to?

_Then don’t and stop complaining._

So I pick the book once again and only look from time to time at them. I suppose they notice too, but they don’t say anything. And then the nurse comes and I have to gulp down three round pink pills that taste like shit on my tongue. They don’t do anything but I don’t say that to anyone.

Maybe I’m alone and it’s my fault and maybe I need someone to talk to. Maybe…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it looks like there is jikook in this after all
> 
> comments are well loved :)


	6. 1.1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song recommandation: [ Imagine Dragons-Not Today ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=trig1MiEo1s&list=RDGMEM6ijAnFTG9nX1G-kbWBUCJAVM2cuR_Vi6vas&index=8)
> 
> enjoy:)

Welcome to the radio show whose host is, of course, me, the one only Min Yoongi, trapped for an eternity, not in a lamp that you need to rub, nope, but in the head of Jeon JungKook. Can you just imagine how simple it would be if someone had to rub his ‘lamp’ and then, boom, back to my old body that’s now a couple of meters underneath the freaking ground?! What I mean is that I don’t want to die, I just want to live once again, independently from him.

Well, I can and I might even do it for you, but unfortunately, this is not a radio show, is only the pitiful life of Jeon JungKook narrated by me for a brief moment to reduce my boredom. What I mean is that I don’t want to die, I just want to live once again, independently from him. But that might not be even possible, because until a couple of weeks ago, or months, I didn’t believe in any divinity, I thought there was no old man with a too long beard on some clouds, looking down at us and judging all our steps. And my strange death and reappearance managed to prove me wrong, because there cannot be a scientific explanation for all of this. Only if I’m truly a figment of his imagination and JungKook is quite sick actually. But I don’t want to believe this and from what I can tell, he doesn’t either; even though we are in a mental institution for teenagers and he takes three, pink pills every day that are supposed to make me disappear. Well, I feel the same. Annoyed, bored and living. Somehow.

But, going back to…well, whatever. I forgot my former point because in this exact second my lovely host is sitting on the bed, thinking, no, thinking is said too lightly, obsessing over the fact that he might have acted like a total douchebag to one of his roommates. And of course, now he wants to apologize but doesn’t have the balls to.

It’s pretty annoying, hearing him think over and over again about the same thing, about the same person, seeing his image in my mind way too much.

I get it, you’re sorry, feeling shitty, can you just stop destroying my train of thought with your boring existential problems? I have bigger ones right here.

_What should I do, Yoongi? I can’t just walk over there and say “Sorry.” It never sounds right…I mean, why should I say sorry? I didn’t do anything inherently wrong, I just snapped at him. It’s totally understandable, right? I…I’m totally fine and if do go and apologize he might think that I care about his opinion, about his feelings and shit. Maybe he’ll even think that I want to be his friend._

And you don’t want that?

In the span of a couple of weeks, I’ve just turned in a personal counselor.

_I don’t freaking know…what if I screw it up with another outburst or he’ll suddenly realize he doesn’t want to be my friend? Or he gets bored and-_

Yes, JungKook, because all people are soulless jerks who will throw you in the dog pit at every little mistake. If it doesn’t work out, it’s important that you’ve tried for once in your freaking life!!!

_I’ll…I’ll just sit here and think some more…_

So, where were we?

It doesn’t matter anyways.

What it matters or maybe what you’re curious about is what the heck happened to me in the period between my sudden and tragic death and my appearance in his head.

Well, not much, really. Because there was nothing. Only darkness and I suppose I didn’t think or do much, and no, I didn’t float around, attending my own funeral and stuff. I just…I didn’t exist for those 6 bloody weeks. But then maybe, someone above me or something, wanted to mock me some more because he decided to throw me into this…kid’s head, kid that has no idea about anything in general. Just like ‘poof’, I’ve found myself existing or thinking again, but not in my own body,  which took me quite a bit of time to realize because every time I tried to talk, well, nothing came out but at the same time, in the beginning, neither JungKook could hear my thoughts. Until, somehow, he could and he freaked the fuck out and I freaked out too, but I tried not to show him that. In a strange, sadistic way, I can hear everything that he thinks, apparently that was also a clue to understand that I was in somebody else’s body, that, and his reflection; but he cannot hear everything that I think. Like this. He cannot hear me think. Only when I ‘speak’ to him.

My little radio show is only for me and for you. In a way, it is good, because I can keep most of the stuff to myself but at the same time, I don’t want to know everything that JungKook thinks. He doesn’t even know what he wants for that matter. It’s even harder this way.

Now, going back in time even more, back to the freaking party, I shall explain why I chose to drive JungKook home. I suppose that was my mistake that ruined both of our lives.

One thing that I hate are parties, but I couldn’t tell anyone about that, because being the popular dude that I was, I was supposed to enjoy them. Well, I didn’t. I loathed the crowd, the stupidity, the dumb games and everything that came with them. As strange as it may sound, even though I was a bad boy, well known too, I did care about people and I knew a bit majority of the ones attending my school.

Including JungKook. Yeah, I know, I know…

So, when I saw him standing in that circle, looking so out of place and alone even though I knew his brother was with him, I actually felt more than sorry for him. I-it’s hard to explain, I felt a connection with a boy I’ve never talked to in my life. When the bottle stopped in front of us, my heart was actually beating faster than I want to admit but I had to keep my mask, to act as if it was just another thing that I’ve done a million of times. I’ve never kissed a guy before. He was my first in that sense. And seeing him so flustered and blushing, it was endearing and it made me not want to do it there, with all those people but I still did it. For my pride or whatever.

I kissed him and I surprisingly liked it. It felt right, but I suppose for him it only felt strange and almost violating. I shouldn’t have done that, so when I saw him run out of the room with all those idiots filming us, I felt the need to go after him.

I’m bad at feelings. Worse even than JungKook. I might be good at giving him advice or shouting at him and calling him names, but I’m as scared as him. Because if I’m not real, if all of this is just his imagination I couldn’t bare it.

So I ran after him, finding him hiding in a fucking closet like a 5 year old and if I knew in that moment that dragging him out with me would make us end up here, in the clinic, stuck together, I wouldn’t have done it.

I-I only wanted to tell him that he’s fine and maybe even hug him, but I didn’t. I chose to scold him and act as if I didn’t care once again, but I did care about him for whatever strange reason. Maybe the divinity really wanted us to end up like this. But I did drag him to my motorcycle. I should have stayed at the party. He should have stayed at the party.

When gave him the helmet, I didn’t think about it. I’ve never been on it with another person but…that felt like the right thing to do. And then, I died. In a flash. Or maybe not that quickly, because I could still hear JungKook’s voice, screaming my name in that darkness but I was numb, I couldn’t feel much, no pain, no anything.

It was just me, somewhere and his voice calling my name.

And nothing until I woke up in his mind.

Maybe everything was not so random, but who knows?

That’s the freaking story, my story, because you’ve heard JungKook’s quite well and probably you feel the same about this idiot who cannot for the love of God make a friend. And not because he’s a monster or creep or anything. He simply is too scared. Of what? Well, he doesn’t even know.

I’m trapped in somebody’s mind and-

_I’m doing it, Yoongi, I’m going to talk to him. I’m doing it. I’m going to apologize to him and…when I don’t know what to say, can you help me? I don’t want to make a fool out of myself…_

Are you actually an idiot? And idiot? How the fuck did you live until me being in your head and telling you what to say? You can’t even blubber a fucking “Sorry”? It’s not that big of a deal. Just go there and do it. You’re just impossible, really.

_Fine, fine. You don’t have to act like a jerk…_

As I said, I’m not good with feelings. At all.

The problem about our strange connection is that for some fucking reason I can feel how he feels. Every single little thing. Yes, I can partially block them out, but when they’re too strong, it’s nearly impossible. Especially when love or anxiety or fright are involved. Then it’s the worst, because it reminds me of the accident I can almost feel the noise and the crush and then the darkness.

But I can feel the butterflies in his belly when he talks to Jimin, the ambiguous feeling he has for him, the fright that he might like boys, the incapacity of admitting it at least.

And now the horrible anxiety and again, mixed feelings he has. I can tell you, today he’s the worst in a while. He’s scared, anxious, hopeful, cowardly, needful. All the shit.

And it drives me insane, it’s honestly a bit too much, the intensity at which he feels every single thing.

Let’s just not talk about that blow job. That was the worst idea I’ve ever had. The worst, because it seemed like his head would explode, but not with desire and shit. No. He was practically disgusted and scared shitless and the whole time…well, that’s why I slightly took control over his mind. Because I thought he wouldn’t be able to handle it and at the same time I needed that way too much. It was bad and selfish of me to make him do it. The slightly good think is that he cannot remember one thing about it. I suppose he only remained with the bad sentiment.

Oh, until I forget-Shit, why the heck does he still feel like this and stand there like an idiot.

JungKook, stop standing like an idiot in front of his bed. He might be crazy, but not that much. Say something, anything to him. I might want to tell you what he does, but I think I’ll let that to him. It’s his story, after all.

Let’s go back to mine. What I have left, at least.

I can take control over his mind. This is something I’ve discovered during the blowjob incident when I did it without wanting to. I can, but I won’t do it. Already when I asked him about it he had an outburst. The worst part is that when I did take control over him, it’s like he just disappeared. He stopped being there and it was only me, like when I was alive. And it is so tempting to do it again and again, to be almost myself once again. But that would be cruel and wrong on so many levels. I’m even scared of what might happen if I do it for far too long.

_Okay, okay…I can do it. I can do it, you can do it, JungKook. Of course you can do it. You can do it._

This is so embarrassing to say, but heck to it. He cannot hear it so let me just let it all out.

Before we died, I actually-crap, this is harder than I thought to say-I kind of liked him. Ugh. He-he was nice and different even though I knew he was introverted and weird. I liked that. Even though he hid in a closet.

But it wasn’t to be. And now, trapped in his body, sometimes-like, sometimes when he fucking rubs it in the shower-I feel strange and giddy and-yes, I can feel the orgasms too. The problem is that I’m afraid I still like him. But it’s so wrong on so many levels that I can’t even count the`m-

_This might actually work, Yoongiiiii-_

YAYY!

And at the same time, when he develops feelings for someone, I’m bound to do it too. But he cannot feel what I feel. Do you see my little existential problem?

Anyhow.

This was my shitty radio show in which I’ve practically expressed everything that I cannot tell to JungKook. Or anyone in particular. I’ve never felt lonelier than this and it doesn’t help that I feel his loneliness on top of everything.

Peace out, people!!

Peace out!

 

1.1

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be interesting to write a chapter from Yoongi's perspective because he is a main character trapped in the mind of a nother protagonist.  
> Anyways, tell me if you like this format and want a few more chapters with Yoongi narrating or if you prefer only JungKook doing it.
> 
> Comments are well loved :)


	7. 1.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Phillip Phillips-Home ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HoRkntoHkIE)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> enjoy :)

According to a song by Phillip Phillips, which I’ve been hearing on the freaking radio each day for the past week (and which also makes me cry, as much as I don’t want to admit it), I’m supposed to know that I’m not alone, because this fucking place we’ll soon feel like home. Well, it doesn’t sound too great to me when you’re trapped in a clinic for teenagers with mental disorders or when you have the voice of a dead person in your head. I don’t need this place to feel like home or to become so accustomed to these people right here. Sometimes I just feel like hitting in the nuts my doctor, Kim Seokjin, when he’s all smiles and laughter, trying to act like I’m normal like everybody else, while he indirectly shoves down my throat a fistful of pills, like it’s no big deal.

It might not be to him, being paid to do that every single day of his life, but to me it only means that I’m so many bricks away from the top of my pyramid. My new pyramid, with a hidden meaning even for me.

I honestly just want to kick everybody in this freaking place in the nuts, hard, just to make myself feel better for a while. I don’t even know from where this comes from, but I’ve stopped questioning my thoughts a long time ago. Everything is possible right now. Everything, even seeing a unicorn poop a rainbow in the middle of the hallway.

Actually, I’m in this more than anxious mood because today is Saturday and that means that Jimin is supposed to come and visit me, if he remembers or wants to have anything to do with a lunatic.

I’m not a very great company by any means, so my hopes are just quite low.

But my biggest existential problem of the day, or the week, has to do with Park Chanyeol and the fact that not even to this day have I managed to blurt out an apology. I just simply cannot go to him and say  _sorry._  It doesn’t feel right because I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for. Yes, I ran away from him when he was only trying to make conversation and play Monopoly with me, but at that point, playing Monopoly with a total stranger felt…out of place. I don’t know how it felt actually, maybe just pointless.

And here I am, still dwelling on those thoughts and my behavior, so obviously, something I did do wrong. Sitting on my small bed, chewing my fingers, with no real occupation but to think over and over again about what I should do, about how much I still want everything to go back to normal. Everything is too quiet, from the silence in my head to the one in the room. All alone.

I keep thinking about how much I’d like for my parents to act normal for one single day and just pretend that I’m still the old me, their son, not some weird toy that they must take care of. Because, as much as they try to smile and make jokes around me, there’s that fright in their eyes that something they’d say will make me have another scene just like in that day when they’ve discovered my little problem. They visit me because they must, it’s their duty and it makes me feel bad, because I’m their burden that they don’t even need. I’m the plus one, the third wheel, unnecessary, but there, existing, making everybody’s life harder.

So, to not think about any of this, I’m trying to think about how I’ll say sorry without sounding like I’m doing that, to Park Chanyeol. It’s easier to think about this than anything else.

_I get it, you’re sorry, feeling shitty, can you just stop destroying my train of thought with your boring existential problems? I have bigger ones right here._

What should I do, Yoongi? I can’t just walk over there and say “Sorry.” It never sounds right…I mean, why should I say sorry? I didn’t do anything inherently wrong, I just snapped at him. It’s totally understandable, right? I…I’m totally fine and if do go and apologize he might think that I care about his opinion, about his feelings and shit. Maybe he’ll even think that I want to be his friend.

_And you don’t want that?_

I’ve started asking Yoongi for advice more and more, it feels like he’s the only one who doesn’t judge me or treat me like I’m out of my mind. Because I am and he’s the result, but it’s just better to pretend that it’s not true. That he’s supposed to be there, as a part of me.

I don’t freaking know…what if I screw it up with another outburst or he’ll suddenly realize he doesn’t want to be my friend? Or he gets bored and-

_Yes, JungKook, because all people are soulless jerks who will throw you in the dog pit at every little mistake. If it doesn’t work out, it’s important that you’ve tried for once in your freaking life!!!_

I’ll…I’ll just sit here and think some more…

What else am I supposed to do? Dance in the middle of the room for rain or what? Build an actual pyramid that I can destroy afterwards? Screw my imaginary pyramid, now I want a real one.

I just turn the radio on once again because I’m truly bored of pretending to read and just sit there, on the bed, staring at the ceiling like it’s some sort of starry sky, when there’s only a long crack across it that makes the shape of a butt. A white, ugly butt.

And then, just to mock me or something, Chanyeol walks into the room. Usually, until 5pm or something like that, TaeHyung and him are anywhere but in our room. At therapy, in the stupid arcade place where they only have old games that you can only play in pairs, anywhere but not in the room with me. Which I’m thankful for, really, until I get so bored that I don’t even know what to do. Maybe even do the homework that has piled up on the nightstand.

But here I am, looking at Chanyeol from the corner of my eye, not sure what to do. Go to him, talk and act like I’m good at conversation and that a couple of days ago he just caught me in a bad mood or what?

Without even thinking about it, I stand up from the bed and I slowly walk towards him, like I’m a paid ninja, trying to surprise his victim with his terrible martial skills. That’s me, a ninja who would hit himself with his weapon, fall from a rooftop and lose his undercover suit because he scratched his butt.

This is me.

And I’m doing the same right now, coughing loudly, because his back is turned towards me and I suppose I’ve startled him because he turns around with a yelp. Heck to being a ninja.

I’m doing it, Yoongi, I’m going to talk to him. I’m doing it. I’m going to apologize to him and…when I don’t know what to say, can you help me? I don’t want to make a fool out of myself…

_Are you actually an idiot? And idiot? How the fuck did you live until me being in your head and telling you what to say? You can’t even blubber a fucking “Sorry”? It’s not that big of a deal. Just go there and do it. You’re just impossible, really._

Fine, fine. You don’t have to act like a jerk…

But I’m still standing in front of him, him sitting down and me looking…down at him, shifting from one feet to another and wondering what other being took control over my mind to make me do this. There’s no turning back, I can well see that even though my mouth is glued with super glue. I might not even make a sound. I silent ninja. I’ve got that going for me, at least.

“JungKook?” he asks and probably even for crazy people I’m way too crazy. “Are you okay?”

“I’m…” I say and then everything just goes blank and I have no idea what to say even though I had only minutes ago a couple of ideas in my mind. “I’m…”

And Chanyeol keeps looking at me, surprised probably, thinking what the heck I want from him, blubbering something with saying anything.

Okay, okay…I can do it. I can do it, you can do it, JungKook. Of course you can do it. You can do it.

“I’m…I just want to say that I didn’t mean to act that way…when you wanted to play Monopoly…I just, I’m not really good at talking to people.” I tell him because it seems like I’m only good at talking to a voice in my head. Then I have no inhibitions.

“Oh…” he says, staring at his hands and it makes me wonder if he’s thinking now about how stupid my half excuse is or maybe he just wants to embarrass me some more. Because I didn’t do a fantastic job myself.

But he doesn’t do any of that.

He just pats the spot next to him on the bed and smiles. Smiles, it’s not even a weird half smile or a grimace. It’s a real, hearty smile and it makes me feel more confident and scared at the same time.

“You should have said that from the beginning.” Chanyeol says when I sit down. “It would have spared us a lot of awkward conversations.“ he laughs.

I laugh too.

“I’m sorry…” I finally say, that sorry that I was so afraid to tell him, in fear he would mock me.

This might actually work, Yoongiiiii-

_YAYY!_

“It’s fine…I understand.” he says, now a little bit less happy than before, but still brighter than I could be at any moment. “I’m your opposite. I’m too loud and obnoxious.”

“You’re not…” but I don’t say what I intended to because he bursts out in laughter, falling back on the bed, sprawled like a too tall starfish.

“I am and I know you think that too.” Chanyeol says, smirking and patting his belly. “I am, even right now.”

I don’t say anything and wonder: how was he charged for depression, when he seems way too happy and functional? The exact opposite of someone that is supposed to be sad all the time.

“And you are thinking about asking me something.” the boy smiles, showing his teeth but then, the grin fades, letting in its place a concerned expression. “Sorry…I’m doing that again…stepping into your bubble…”

Maybe he’s not such a stupid puppy as I thought. Maybe he’s just an overly excited puppy and that’s about it. I still feel uncomfortable, talking to someone that just days and maybe hours ago I was bashing and somehow fearing in my mind. But here we are, and the weird puppy is not even mad at me for my crappy behavior. Is this gift town or what?

The only thing that concerns me right now is the strange disappearance of Min Yoongi, or better, of his interruptions that in this peculiar moment, I’ve come to miss. Right now, I realize, they seem more like a reinforcement, telling me that I’m not alone. And now, I feel alone once again.

“It’s stupid what I’m about to ask.” I say after a while, when he’s fully seated on his colorful pillows and I’m still on the edge of the bed.

“Then shoot it!” he says with some sort of an encouraging smile. “And you don’t have to sit like that…it’s uncomfortable. I mean, if you don’t mind, of course.”

But I don’t move closer to him, this distance is enough for me, closer and I wouldn’t be able to even talk to him.

“You said you have depression but-“

“I don’t look like I have it, right?”

“Yeah…” I say, looking down at my feet.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked that.

“Well, for starters, they give me a lot of pills that make me feel better…but even when I was depressed and untreated, I was still acting this way. This is…me, I guess?” he says.

“But how then did your parents know that you were depressed….”

“They-“but right in that moment a nurse enters the room with just another bright smile on her face.

“Jeon JungKook. You have a visitor.” she says and my heart starts to crazily beat in my chest at her words.

At this point, my parents and brother just come unannounced in my room so I’m sure it cannot be them. It must be Jimin and this thought makes me feel all kinds of ways: happy, giddy, anxious and scared.

“Have fun!” Chanyeol smiles and waves at me and I try to do the same as I leave the room.

Jimin…Jimin…

Why is my heart beating so fast when I think about him?

 

**_TO BE CONTINUED…_ **

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is quite a filler chapter that it's an integrated part of the last one, when Yoongi was the narrator. The events happen at the same time and that's why I've added the dialogue they had in the previous entry. I chose to add a _to be continued_ because I'm planning for the next chapter to be longer and also, it doesn't have any other connection to the Yoongi one.  
>  btw, I think this story will be on hiatus for a while.  
> ~UNFINISHED WORK~  
> Comments are well loved :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are well loved ❤


End file.
